


Disgust Me

by casketfactory



Category: A Nightmare on Elm Street (Movies 1984-1994)
Genre: Anal Sex, Deepthroating, Internalized Homophobia, Knifeplay, Multi, Religious Guilt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2020-07-19
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:28:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25367614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/casketfactory/pseuds/casketfactory
Summary: He was a good boyfriend, he told himself. Even if looking at his girlfriend did nothing for him, he made her happy. He played his part well. That was enough.As he drifted off to sleep, arms wrapped around Lisa’s soft, reassuring middle, he swore that he could hear rough laughter echoing in his ears.
Relationships: Freddy Krueger/Jesse Walsh, Jesse Walsh/Lisa Webber, Jesse Walsh/Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 40





	Disgust Me

Jesse had done everything right. Gone to prom with his girlfriend, got them a matching corsage and boutonnière set, let her pull him into an empty room at the party afterwards. They were going to the same college. After a year in the dorms, they planned to get an apartment. They would adopt a one-eyed cat from the local shelter. They would take turns cooking dinner. As soon as he had his diploma in hand, he would get down on one knee with his grandmother’s ring and propose to her.

When he remembered Lisa, he knew that everything was going to turn out okay. When he remembered Lisa, it was easier to ignore the jogger that ran by his house each morning, with his tight red shorts and muscular, hairy calves.

Her corsage had been of cornflowers and pale hydrangeas, all cool shades of blue. When he found himself being drawn to the violent excitement of red, he looked at their prom photos and tried to focus on that little patch of calm. He did not let his eyes be pulled to the blank space between them, where Grady should have been.

It was best not to dwell on things he shouldn’t and couldn’t have.

*

When he arrived at his dorm room a few days before the semester started, he wasn’t impressed. The painted over cinder blocks that made up the walls made him think of a prison cell. The one small, square window could only be forced open halfway before it caught and jammed.

His absent roommate had done what he could to liven the place up on his side of the room: sports memorabilia, band posters, an old Polaroid of what he took to be the family dog. No pictures of a girlfriend, no girls at all, in fact, not even a pinup. A spasm of hope flared in his chest, chased quickly by nausea, fear, denial.

He hoped the boy would be ugly.

All Jesse had to put on his own walls were a generic calendar and pictures of Lisa. He taped them in a cluster right above his pillow, where a cross might go if he had more faith. A shrine to heterosexuality before which he would kneel in prayer each night.

He was just standing back to look at the pictures, wondering if they were a bit much, if he was trying too hard, when he heard the door open behind him.

“Hey.”

Jesse turned, and his mouth went dry.

The boy had sun-kissed skin and blond curls that went down to his shoulders. He stood at least six inches taller than Jesse. There was something about the way he held himself—his posture loose and relaxed, yet suggestive of strength—that reminded him of a lion.

His roommate crossed the room in two strides and grabbed his hand.

“You’re Jesse, right? Name’s Richie.”

A firm handshake. Big, square hands. It was worse than Jesse could have ever imagined. The joke he’d prepared, some stupid pun about the size of the room, fled from his mind.

“Uh.” He cleared his throat. “Hi, nice to, uh—”

Richie looked over his shoulder, at the wall above his bed.

“She’s cute.” Richie flashed him a quick, easy grin. “You’re a lucky guy.”

Jesse dragged his eyes away from Richie’s face. His heart pounded in his chest.

“Yeah,” he said. “I really am.”

*

Jesse hadn’t seen Freddy in his dreams in months, and now—well, he still wasn’t quite sure that he was seeing him. He only ever appeared in glimpses—a face in a crowd, a figure at the edge of his vision which quickly morphed into someone else when he faced them fully.

Still. A week of this was enough to send him running into Lisa’s arms.

Much to her disappointment, he had never turned into a sex fiend. At first he’d chalked it up to nerves, some fear that he would make a fool of himself when he lost his virginity and she would leave him for someone more experienced. But even after they’d had sex a few times, he still didn’t like it. He only asked for it often enough to keep her satisfied, and even then he tried not to look at her face too much, just focused on the simple pleasure of the creamy glide of her vagina against his cock.

So when he showed up at her dorm that day, practically begging for it, she was more than happy to oblige. He fucked her on her cramped twin bed. This time, he tried to keep eye contact. He palmed her breasts. He ran his hands over the supple curves of her hips and thighs. He tried to think about all the things that were supposed to turn a man on.

He didn’t want to come just from the mechanical sensation, like he usually did; he wanted to come because he was fucking a woman.

But it was impossible.

He closed his eyes and let himself think of Richie. He would only think of him for a moment, he told himself, just as an experiment, just to see what would happen—

He came inside her, hard.

Lisa let out a gasp of pleasure. The sound made his stomach clench with guilt. As soon as her tremors subsided, he rolled off of her.

She burrowed her nose into his chest with a satisfied sigh.

“That was the best yet.”

He kissed the top of her head, so he wouldn’t have to see her face, and ran a hand through her hair.

“Yeah. It was for me, too.”

He was a good boyfriend, he told himself. Even if looking at his girlfriend did nothing for him, he made her happy. He played his part well. That was enough.

As he drifted off to sleep, arms wrapped around Lisa’s soft, reassuring middle, he swore that he could hear rough laughter echoing in his ears.

*

The night after that, he opened his eyes in hell.

In the boiler room it was hot and humid, the air shimmering and distorted by heat rising from below. Hair and fabric clung to his skin. He stumbled delirious through the maze, hands pressed to the sweating walls for balance.

He wasn’t sure how long he searched. Hours, maybe. It took long enough that he was exhausted, weighed down by the heavy air, vision blurred and dragging himself forward on hands and knees. Just when he was about to give up, he turned a corner and Freddy was there, leaning casually against a pole like all this was nothing to him. He sauntered over to Jesse and put his claws on the soft underside of his chin. Then, oh-so-gently, he tilted Jesse’s face up to look at him.

When Jesse looked into his eyes, the whole world became red. The walls, the ceiling, his own skin. Red like blood, like the flushed head of a cock.

The dream shifted. He was in his bunk, face pressed into the pillow, ass in the air. Freddy jerked his hair roughly to the side and brushed his burnt, cracked lips against his ear.

“Nice place you got here, Jesse. You tapping that hot piece of ass yet?”

Jesse glanced over at Richie. His blood went cold. Freddy let out a harsh, dry cackle.

“That’s right. I forgot. You’re too much of a coward to take what you want.”

Freddy dragged a claw down the back of Jesse’s pants and ripped them off. Jesse let out a muffled yelp against the pillow. Richie, on the other side of the room, stirred but didn’t wake.

Something hard pressed against his hole. Jesse clenched involuntarily.

“This is probably the only cock you’re ever gonna get. You may as well relax and enjoy it.”

Freddy pushed past his resistance, fitting the head of his dick snugly inside. The pain of being forced open was immense. Jesse let out a choked sob.

“Come on, none of that. Would it help if I”—the pitch of his voice shifted, became high and light and young—“tried on something more familiar?”

Jesse didn’t have to look back to know who he was now—he knew it from the press of firm muscles against his back, from the fine golden hairs on the hands that held him down, from the smell of Juicy Fruit on his breath, Richie’s tooth-rotting favorite. All those tiny details he had memorized without even realizing it.

Arousal hit him like a truck. His dick twitched against the crumpled sheets. Freddy smiled, licked the side of his face with a tongue that was just too long to be human.

“That’s more like it.”

He stroked Jesse’s cock and pressed farther into him. Jesse writhed half-hardheartedly under him.

“Stop...please...”

“That’s not what your dick’s telling me.”

Freddy gave him a hard tug. Jesse gasped.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?”

“No,” he lied.

Freddy laughed. He kept fucking him. When precum began to lube up his ass it became less painful, if only by a little. Freddy let out a pleased noise when he felt Jesse relax, and he adjusted his position, angling for a spot that made pleasure shoot through him with each thrust. Jesse was starting to leak onto the bed. It smeared against his stomach. When he tried to squirm away from the wet spot, Freddy just cackled and pressed him deeper into the mattress.

He felt himself go teary-eyed with shame.

Was this how he had always wanted it, deep down? He had lain awake so many nights, wishing that Richie would slide into bed behind him. He would feign sleep, let his mouth go slack, allow Richie to slide his cock in and fuck his throat. Then Richie, in his generosity, would suck Jesse off in turn and tuck him back into his boxers, thinking that Jesse was none the wiser. And Jesse could rest easy, knowing that he had asked for none of it.

He remembered something his mother used to tell him: thoughts have power because God can see all of them, so you should never say or think a word that you don’t want to come true. Maybe he was getting what he deserved. Maybe God had seen his worst thoughts, and now he was making them come true as punishment.

It didn’t take Freddy long to finish. Within minutes, he was coming all over Jesse’s back, groaning with Richie’s sweet, stolen voice. Jesse tried his best to take deep, even breaths and ignore the arousal pulsing through his erection. Maybe Freddy would leave him alone now that he was sated.

No such luck. Freddy flipped him onto his back and leered over him. He still looked like Richie, but the knives betrayed who he really was. They burst from his fingers like hotdog skewers. When he caught Jesse staring at them he smiled a Freddy smile and ran them teasingly down his torso, leaving shallow cuts that Jesse knew would still be there when he woke up.

“C’mon, Jess, let’s have some fun,” Freddy said, mockingly upbeat. “No one has to know. What happens in college stays in college, right?”

He cackled. Jesse tried to squirm away, but the knives on his stomach held him in place. Freddy dipped down between his legs and brushed his lips along the length of Jesse’s cock.

This was too tender, the image of Richie between his legs, lips caressing him. Jesse knew that Freddy was only setting him up for a fall, but he couldn’t help it: when he swirled his tongue around the head of his cock, he sighed with joy.

The tongue lengthened and wrapped around the full length of his penis. Jesse swallowed.

“Can you...” His voice was dry, husky, full of shame and need. “Can you just do it normally? Like Richie would?”

The corners of Freddy’s lips stretched unnaturally wide. Too late, Jesse realized that what he had chosen would be much, much worse.

His tongue retracted, and in one smooth motion, Freddy swallowed him down to the hilt.

“God,” Jesse gasped. “God, I—Wait—”

Freddy moaned against his cock, just like he had imagined Richie would, a rumble deep in his chest that vibrated along the length Jesse’s shaft and had him thrusting up into his throat.

Freddy did nothing, just pressed down further, taking his balls into his mouth, and let Jesse keep fucking him. The view was obscene: Richie’s lips flush against his body, his cheeks splotched with red. A splash of human coloring that Freddy had put on just for him. He could look past the knives still holding him down, and pretend that this was all real, that there was a world where Richie wanted him.

He bit down on the fleshy part of his hand to muffle a scream, and the taste of blood filled his mouth as he came down Freddy’s throat.

The instant he pulled away, Freddy returned to his usual form. He sat back and licked his lips with a satisfied smack. Drinking in his shame, Jesse thought.

The pleasure left him as suddenly as it had come. His skin was alight with embarrassment. He turned his head to the side and squeezed his eyes shut. Hot tears soaked into his pillow.

Freddy’s nails scraped through his hair. The smell of his breath made Jesse’s stomach roil: gasoline, burnt skin, his own semen. When he spoke again, it was with his own voice.

“That was fun. Let’s do it again sometime.”


End file.
